


THE TYPING POOL

by EvanBlack



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvanBlack/pseuds/EvanBlack
Summary: Mulder suffers the slings and arrows of the FBI typing pool
Kudos: 22





	THE TYPING POOL

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not re-post to any other site without writer's permission.

Hoover Building  
December 22  
1532hrs

'Meet me in the typing pool at five, Mulder.'

'The typing pool, Scully?'

'Yes. A pool of people. Who type.'

Mulder chewed his lip.

'Do I have to?'

Scully glanced over at him. He looked like an anxious teenager at the dentist's. 

She cocked an eyebrow: 'What's wrong Mulder?'

He squirmed. 'Can't I meet you at your car?'

'You promised to help me carry my Christmas tree TO my car. What's the point of meeting me AT my car?'

'No point,' he said sulkily.

'I need to get Skinner to sign off on the expenses, pick up the tree from the super's office, then drop those reports off with Holly in the typing pool next door. It makes sense to meet me there, don't you think?'

Mulder half-shrugged miserably.

Scully suppressed a tiny smile. 'Mulder? You're not SCARED of the typing pool are you?'

'Don't be silly Scully.'

'Because I know those typists can be... ruthless...'

'That's not it.'

'...cold-blooded...'

'I didn't say...'

'...killers!'

'Very funny Scully. I'll see you in the typing pool.'

As she exited the basement office she murmured: 'Wear your water-wings.'

'What?'

She poked her head back inside, all innocence, to see Mulder's forehead wrinkled up like a Shar-pei's.

'Nothing Mulder.'

*************************************************

At five o'clock sharp, FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder walked briskly past the tinsel-covered glass-walled office housing the typing pool without glancing in.

At five-oh-five he walked past it again and glanced in. He could see Holly was in there. Also Angela and Nicole, who were the same sort of age as Holly - maybe 25. Then there was Geraldine, an ancient blue-haired woman who had been at the Hoover Building since the dawn of time - and gay Anthony.  
No Scully.

The third time he went by, Holly looked up and saw him and waved, so he had to go in, even though Scully was still not there.

They all beamed at him. 'Agent Mulder!' they sang in chorus. 

'Uh, hi.'

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, tugging at his cuffs, feeling himself going red under their laser-like stares. Why did the typing pool always do this to him? He'd rather be hog-tied buck naked and dragged in front of the Consortium itself than step into the FBI typing pool. Something told him that Scully suspected this, and he silently vowed vengeance on her for being late.

'Um, I'm supposed to be waiting for Agent Scully?'

Holly smiled brightly, 'Oh, sure. Dana said you were coming by to help her with the tree.' She nodded at a chair beside the door. 'Have a seat Agent Mulder.'

Mulder hesitated. Sitting down was a concession that he was going to wait for as long as it took Scully to get her butt down here. Once he'd sat down, good manners dictated he couldn't possibly get up and leave unless  
1) Scully arrived and took him away from all this  
2) The building burnt down

But Mulder wasn't prepared to wait forever. If Scully didn't appear soon he was outta here and let her manhandle her own eight-foot tree. 

'Uh, no, that's okay thanks. I'll stand.'

They looked at him, smiles slipping, as if he'd hurt them in some collective way. He smiled weakly: 'Been sitting all day.'

They nodded tactfully. 

'Don't let me interrupt your, um, work.' To emphasize the point, he turned to look at the cards stuck on the glass wall beside the door, as if he'd never seen crappy glitter-covered bits of paper before. 

What the hell did Scully need with an eight-foot tree anyway? That was almost twice her height. Was she going to sleep in it? Build a treehouse? Hang herself on the branches like a gingerbread treat? The thought of a gingerbread Scully - or Scully covered in gingerbread - or gingerbread covered in Scully - suddenly made his stomach flip pleasantly, and he shook his head at the sheer depth of his own depravity when it came to his petite red-headed partner. Really, the embarrassment. Fox Mulder, porn-video King of DC, getting a little thrill from imagining Scully as a Christmas tree treat. He was so sick. Someone really ought to shoot him. Again. 

Holly got up and walked past him to the photocopier. There was a moment where he was in her way and they did an awkward little two-step jig before she smiled and brushed past him. Holly was a nice girl, thought Mulder. Even though she'd once stomped all over Skinner. Scully liked her, so she must be okay. But even Holly made him nervous when she was in her natural habitat - the typing pool. Mulder peered through the glass between the Christmas cards, his eyes desperately seeking Scully in the corridor outside. Nothing.

As Holly returned to her desk, Mulder took care to step well out of her way, his shoulders actually touching the glass wall. But instead of acknowledging his manners and moving on by, Holly stopped suddenly in front of him and turned to face him. 

'What are you doing for Christmas, Agent Mulder?'

He felt panic grip him by the throat. He was doing nothing for Christmas; he never did anything for Christmas; to him Christmas was just a day when he wasn't allowed to go into the office to keep from feeling the depths of his own pathetic loneliness. 

'Oh...just...the usual.'

Holly nodded as if she understood totally. 'And what's 'the usual'?'. 

She plainly had not understood at all.

Mulder started to sweat. He had an urge to wipe his forehead but dared not show weakness. The weak would be targeted and picked off...He shrugged and mumbled at his shoes...

'Oh, you know. Things.' 

He glanced up to see Holly's face encouraging him to say more. Through the fog of his own embarrassment, Mulder groped for a social skill he'd seen Scully adopt when she wanted to deflect personal questions. Adopted against him, actually. He seized it with both grateful hands: 'How about you?'

With relief bursting out all over, Mulder saw Holly react to the question. Suddenly her eyes weren't boring into him any more. Focus had shifted to her, and Mulder let out a long, shuddering breath as she opened her mouth to respond.

'I'm going to spend it with my boyfriend's family in Maine. They have a cabin on the lake. We're going to skate.' She smiled in anticipation and Mulder nodded enthusiastically. He couldn't have looked more pleased if he himself had been about to embark on a skating trip to Maine.

'That's great. Have a good time.' The words came easily out of his mouth, and sounded genuine enough, even to his own paranoid ear. Thank God for Scully and her interpersonal skills. This could have gotten very messy without them.

'Thanks!' Holly seemed genuinely touched by Mulder's good wishes. She beamed up at him, still clutching her photocopies to her chest. Then - before he knew what was happening - she stepped in on tip-toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. Mulder's head banged the glass wall in surprise and they all giggled. Holly grinned up at him, unabashed. 'Happy Christmas Agent Mulder.'

He rubbed the back of his head. 'Um, yeah. Thanks.' He could feel himself go hot all over. 

'Would you like a Christmas cookie Agent Mulder?' Mulder looked at Geraldine. She was holding a tin. Her eyes behind inch-thick glasses were gigantic.

'Er, no thanks.'

Geraldine's huge eyes got wounded in a second. 'I made them myself.' 

He'd offended her. Shit. 'Oh, in that case...'

She came over with the tin, looking grateful for his patronage. The Christmas cookies were in various festive shapes. He took a Christmas tree. 

'Thanks. Geraldine.'

'You may kiss me Agent Mulder,' she said in a voice that left no room for maneuvre, and turned her wrinkled cheek to him. 

'Um, yeah. Sure.' He bent almost double to peck the old dear on the cheek but she turned at the last possible second and caught his lips on her own. Mulder straightened up fast, resisting the almost overwhelming temptation to wipe his mouth. Geraldine looked at him archly and went back to her chair. 

They were all looking at him now, expecting him to eat the cookie. He didn't want to eat the cookie in front of them all. He didn't want to eat it at all. But he knew that if he didn't eat it, he could be in serious trouble.

Still, he made an effort. He patted his flat belly as if they were exotic natives who didn't understand English words. 'Think I'll save it for later.'

Geraldine immediately got up again and gave him a look that he would have to describe as flirtatious-from-memory. She removed a three-legged reindeer from the tin and pushed it crummily into the breast pocket of his best Calvin Klein suit. 'For you,' she said, conspiratorially, 'for later.'

Under Geraldine's saucer-like stare, he bit the top off the Christmas tree and almost gagged. Due to poor eyesight or a warped sense of humor, Geraldine must have replaced sugar with salt in this year's Christmas recipe. Mulder's eyes widened. In any other circumstances he would have spat the offending cookie into his hand, but everyone was watching and waiting for his verdict. He decided to skip chewing and go straight for the swallow, and winced as the pointed chunk of cookie struggled down his throat. He could feel it poking against the sides all the way down his chest, and his eyes started to water.

Geraldine beamed at him in a motherly kind of way and he decided to give the poor old girl the benefit of the doubt. 

'Mmm.' was all he could squeeze out, but it seemed to satisfy her. He thought he could see Nicole, Holly and Angela's shoulders quivering, but he didn't want to look too closely.

Instead he walked over to stare at the clock high on the wall, even though he could have glanced at his watch. But glancing at his watch wouldn't have hidden his face from the Typing Pool. It was five-fifteen. He was going to kill Scully.

'It's five-fifteen Agent Mulder.' 

Nicole. Or Angela. He couldn't tell which. 'Uh, yeah. I see that.' But he kept staring at the clock.

'Oh. I thought you might be having some difficulty...' Muffled giggles; he kept his back turned, '...telling the time.'

Shit. Shit shit shit. Now he had to turn round. Now he had to say something. And what could he possibly say that would cover his embarrassment and recover some dignity? Think, Mulder, think! His mind was a third-grade blank.

'Uh, yeah. I don't have my glasses with me.' Smooth, Mulder, real smooth. Where were his witty one-liners when he needed them? 

'Oh you poor man. Try mine.' Anthony leapt up from his chair like someone had hit the Eject button.

Mulder stepped backwards towards the door as Anthony bustled over, taking off his glasses and holding them out as if he was going to put them on Mulder himself. Mulder's shoulders hit the glass wall again. Back to square one. There was nowhere else to go. 

He tried to deflect Anthony without actually punching him, but Anthony jabbed his spectacles onto Mulder's face, then stood back to evaluate. 

'There. How's that? Better?'

Mulder felt dizzy as the world blurred into fuzzy colored balls around him. He put his hands on the wall behind him to stay upright.

'Er, not much.'

'But a bit, right? I thought we'd have pretty much the same prescription. How lucky is that? And they suit you too. You should keep them.'

'Thanks, but I--'

'No, you keep them. I insist. I don't need them.' Said Anthony, bumping into a coat stand.

Anthony stood in front of him for a second, a mere blue and black lump. He seemed to grow suddenly bigger but Mulder was so disorientated by the strong lenses that he didn't relate the abstract movement to any kind of reality - until he felt Anthony kiss him quickly on the corner of his mouth.

'Jesus!' Mulder yanked the glasses off and Anthony took them back with a sigh. Mulder blinked at him furiously, regaining perspective.

'Happy Christmas Agent Mulder.' Anthony gave him a look of complete devotion that stopped Mulder in his tracks. Now completely flustered, he shot a furious look at the clock. Five-thirty!

That was IT. He was OUTTA HERE! He hoped Scully's tree FELL on her and trapped her in the super's office till New Year's Day.

He swung round to go and bumped into Scully as she came through the door.

'Scully!'

'Hi Mulder.'

She looked at him coolly, seeing his red face, his furrowed brow, the body language that screamed 'let me out!'. He tried to step round her and out of the door but she moved subtley so that he could not pass. He turned his back to the typing pool and ducked his head to hiss angrily at her.

'You're late!'

'I'm not,' she said. 'Five thirty. On the dot.'

'You said five!' 

'If I'd said five, Mulder, I would have been here at five.'

He saw her cool, immovable conviction and started whining in desperation. 'You said five! I've been here since five!'

'Really Mulder, I can think of worse places to be for half an hour.' She bent sideways at the waist and looked round him to smile at the typing pool. 'I'm sure the girls were pleased to have you. And Anthony, of course.'

'Sure', said Holly, and there was a chorus of innocent agreement.

Scully turned back to Mulder. He gave her a look of such pained victimisation that Scully's heart nearly relented. Very nearly. 

He dropped his eyes, every angle of his lean body in discord with the other, so great was his discomfort at being in this situation.

Scully suddenly lifted his chin with her knuckle, and looked into his eyes. 'Have you been standing here the whole time Mulder?' He nodded almost imperceptibly. She could read his body language, and right now he was almost crying out for her to say they could go, to ring the bell and release him from the typing pool and never make him come back. All she had to do was step aside and let him escape...

Instead, Scully quirked a little smile, then leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. He gasped in surprise and straightened up with a grunt, but she held his head in place to keep the hot, smooth contact between them. Mulder squirmed. What the hell was she doing?! Here? Now? Was she crazy? Were they ALL crazy? He sucked in another breath as Scully's lips parted ever so slightly and her small tongue darted briefly into his mouth, sending a bolt of electricity straight to his groin, then she let him go, looking up at him with wicked humor - and something else - glinting in her eyes.

'Close your mouth, Mulder,' she suggested quietly, so he did. 

She tucked her hair behind one ear. 'Right then Mulder. You ready to play lumberjack?' She looked at the tree which leaned against the wall of the hallway outside. He nodded vehemently and followed her out of the door, almost trampling her in his eagerness to get out.

'Bye Agent Mulder! Happy Christmas Agent Mulder! Nice to see you Agent Mulder!' the typing pool cries followed him out and he raised a vague hand in an all-purpose goodbye.

At the tree, Mulder grabbed Scully by the arm and spun her to face him. 

'What the hell was that Scully?'

'A kiss, Mulder.'

'But...why?'

'Because you were asking for it.'

'I was not!'

'Don't lie Mulder.'

Mulder was stung. 'I don't lie to you Scully! I was not asking to be kissed!'

Scully shrugged, 'Then you shouldn't have stood under the mistletoe Mulder.'

Mulder stopped dead. He looked back through the glass walls of the typing pool to where he'd been standing. There, among the tinsel and the glittery cards, high on the wall beside the door, was a sprig of mistletoe.

Scully started grinning at his face. 'You big tease!' 

Mulder felt his face burn with humiliation. His eyes swung from the mistletoe to the inhabitants of the typing pool who were giggling and waving at him. He turned slowly back to Scully, his face blank, but his eyes accusing her...

'You said five o'clock Scully.'

'We've been over this Mulder. Now, are you going to help me with this tree or not?' She tipped the tree sideways and took the pointy end, leaving the heavier trunk for him.

Mulder took one last long look at her. Then he picked up the whole tree, yanking it roughly out of Scully's arms. 'You said five.' 

She stepped back and raised an amused eyebrow at him.

'Can't you take a joke Mulder?'

They started towards the elevator, Mulder almost encased in the tree and Scully walking alongside him, unable to keep the smile off her face. She'd hear the details from Holly tomorrow, and could hardly wait. 

She glanced over at his blank, closed-off face and wondered how long he was going to stay mad at her. He wasn't usually one to bear a grudge, and she HAD gotten to kiss him...

He seemed to remember that because suddenly his eyes suddenly slid across to look at her lips. He shrugged and almost smiled and Scully knew she was in the clear.

'I knew you'd see the funny side,' she grinned. 'Eventually.'

He returned the grin and shook his head. 'But you did say five, right? I'm not nuts?'

'I said five Mulder.'

He nodded, looking relieved. He set the tree down as they waited for the elevator. After a moment, the doors opened and he manhandled the tree diagonally into the car, carefully bending the point so as not to break it. They clambered in around it.

As the doors closed...

'Hey Scully?'

'Yes Mulder?'

'I got you a Christmas cookie...'

END


End file.
